Faded
by Lost in my Wonderland
Summary: Blue eyes on grey. After a while the line between life and death blurs. Truth and Fiction. Reality and insanity, and it's because of /her/ She's the cause of his lines blurring. But he keeps go back. Grey eyes on blue. MU/GH
1. Gray

Gale was alone, forgotten in the cruel unforgiving darkness. He recalled when he was younger, seven or eight years old, terrified of the dark. Because even at the young age, he had already learned that bad things happen in the dark. People die, close their eyes, and fall into the everlasting darkness, perhaps a dream for them, but a terrifying nightmare for anyone who ever loved them. He remembered how in the dark, every sound was amplified, every creak of the old house seemed like the foot steps of a monster, coming closer and closer to the little boy, hidden under the covers. But that wasn't the scariest thing to cross his mind. The thought that chilled him to the bone, that left him frozen in fear was the thought that monster was already there, in the closet or under his bed, just waiting for him to fall into a deep sleep, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

He'd run to his parents room, and sleep between them, the warmth from either side convincing him that everything would be alright in the morning.

But he was never safe forever.

How was he to know that his father would die, in the dreaded darkness of the mines? How was he to know that he'd pretend he didn't hear his mother crying late at night in the dark? How was he to know that baby Posy, would wake him up at two in the morning, half awake herself, mumbling that she was afraid of the dark, asking him if she could sleep in his bed, begging him to protect him from the monsters.

Gale Hawthorne was familiar with the dark. More than anyone should be. Spending all his time in the dark so he wouldn't have seen his reflection in the mirror. But that doesn't mean he ever stopped being afraid.

* * *

The bottle sat innocently on the table, opened, but still full, bottle of the best liquor you could find in District Two. He tried to look away, but it was like the alcohol had a magnetic pull, unwillingly drawing his eyes to the bottle every few second. It mocked him. Sitting there, patiently, knowing that Gale would reach for it, and empty it before the sun came up. He had promised his mother he'd stop He had promised Rory, Vick, Posy. Even promised Katniss Mellark that he would, But he hadn't promised _her_. And the clear bottle tempted him, coaxing him to open it, promising it could take all the pain, the _emotions_ away, at least for a little while. He ran his hand through his short black hair, resisting the urge to drink. But he knew it was futile.

He winced as the bitter-tasting liquor hit the back of his throat. The icy feeling in his chest as the alcohol burned its way through his body, was long-familiar, even comforting. He drank, draining the bottle, first sip by sip, but each swallow increasing, as he forgot himself, and focused on the animal like instinct that told him _more_. He forgot himself, forgot the war, forgot _her,_ and her pretty blue eyes that always haunted him. He told himself he drank to forget his family, his father, Katniss, the war. But it was dreadful lie; he drank to forget _her._

Madge. The mayor's daughter. The girl with the dying mother. The girl who was safe from the reaping. Katniss' school friend. The privileged merchant. The petite blonde. The blue-eyed angel. The rare fortunate one, in District Twelve. The girl who likes strawberries. No, that wasn't right. The girl who _liked_ strawberries.

* * *

Gale didn't remember finishing the bottle. He didn't remember stumbling to bed, probably hoping that he wouldn't puke on the covers. His breath tasted awful, the worst combination of liquor and foul morning breath. He was disgusted with what he had become. A man, broken and hollow from a war, unable to sleep without being drunk, the disappointment of his town. The Haymitch of District Two. A man with a blasted hangover

But it wasn't as if his memory was blank. He remembered scraps of the night before. Tears falling down from his silver eyes as he looked out his only window. Trying to call the Mellarks without realizing that he had broken his phone weeks ago and was yet to fix it. _Her._

He shot up in bed, so fast he had banged his head on the head-board, most likely giving himself a bruise that would seem in a few hours. But he was yet to register any pain. He shut his eyes, trying to piece together what had happened the night before. He remembered an image, a single picture of her standing there, among the broken pieces of glass, her blue eyes shining, a sickly sweet smile on her lips. The moon light hitting her hair just right, so that it looked like waves in a golden ocean.

And he tried to look closer at the memory, the single moment, a fragment memory, but the harder he looked, the more he tried to pick up details, the more it faded away, laving him with a blank picture and hollow heart beating unevenly. And one of the worst headaches he'd had in a long time.

_Goddamn it, what had happened last night? _He must have hallucinated. Or just...it was impossible. It was just...impossible. She was dead. She was dead...

He fell back onto the lumpy mattress, the best he could afford on a guards salary. It was still a lot better than what he was use to in District Twelve. Hell, it was better than District Thirteen. That still didn't mean it was comfortable. He turned over in his bed, hugging a pillow like he did when he was younger. Gale wrinkled his nose at the bitter smelling pillow, for it reared like his breath. He sighed, tempted to stay in bed all day, skip his shift, maybe call Solder Hiddson and ask to take a few days off.

That made him jump out of bed. If he arrived even an hour late, he'd be fired. And as much as Gale hated to admit it, it was the best job he could get. He didn't like it, hated it even, but it payed enough that he could afford his own one bedroom apartment and still send money to his mom. He didn't think he'd ever stop taking care of her. Not until the day she died.

He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away as he made his way to the bathroom. No, he didn't want to think about that, he didn't want to imagine having to tell little Posy the news.

Gale stared at the mirror, an inwardly groaned when he spotted the spider web shaped crack on it, with the hairline cracks expanding it in all directions. He must have punched it last night. He'd have to buy a new one. _Again._ He didn't even know why he kept on buying new mirrors, just to break them a few days later. But he just did. Like he was hoping that one day he'd undress for a shower and look in the perfect mirror and that would be the day all his problems would be solved. He smirked, his shattered reflection in the mirror mimicking him. What a childish thought. He'd been through a war, he knew things wouldn't change because of a stupid mirror. He knew the mirror wasn't his problem, it was just a side effect and he was too weak to deal with the cause.

Still, the day his mirror, his simple, frame less bathroom mirror above the sink survived the night made him grin, the hopeful childish grin he once had before. But by the time he stepped out of the steaming shower, the white towel wrapped around his waist, tied in a knot above his hip, the sweet, innocent boyish grin was gone.

He through the short-sleeved white collared shirt over his head and grudgingly fastened the buttons up to his throat. Damn dress code, Even in District Thirteen, where he was a solder in a war, he didn't have to wear a freaking collared shirt that threatened to choke him every time he took a deep breath. And the pants. Long and coal-black, reminding him if the dark mines, his old job that lasted only a few months in District Twelve. Well they would be long on everyone else, but Gale being above average height had to deal with his ankle being shown every time he took a step. When he first heard the shoes were going to be leather, it perked his interest, thinking back to has worn brown leather hunting boots. But this leather was stiff and hard, useless in the means of survival. Gale was working in an office building, but was a hunter at heart and no amount of hair gel was going to change his survivor instincts. He stared at the cracked mirror, where he spotted his face, his hair slicked back and parted to the side, dark shadows under his eyes, his real eyes, shining silver but streaked with red. If he ignored the eyes, it would seem like he was heading to the reaping. No, that wasn't true, his family could never afford an extra set of leather shoes and he would never have used hair gel, not for the Capital.

Gale checked the clock hanging over his bedroom door, and saw it was 12:57. Cursing under his breath he ran outside, his shoes making it harder to get a good grip on the ground to push-off with, the noises of loud strangers; children whining, mindless conversations, the sounds of feet hitting the ground, and if Gale closed his eyes and concentrated, the sounds of a dozen nearby hearts beating out of sin. This city was no place for a veteran, a hunter who was use to the quiet rustle of bird creeping up a tree or the sound of guns being shot, inches from his ears. He had conquered the two extremes, but he was yet to deal with the even middle. And he especially couldn't deal with it, while suffering through a hangover

"Hawthorne," A calm, careless voice greeted him as Gale pushed the office door open. "You got drunk last night,"

Gale didn't even think this was even worth answering to. But he had to keep his job, so he had to play nice with Kaleb Hiddson, his boss. He hated this, pretending to like someone so he could keep his job, a job that he didn't even honestly want, let alone like. It reminded him to much of the Capitol and how they played with the starving Districts. But he had to make sure his mother was comfortable and that his siblings had enough money to live on their own. "Yes," Gale said equally calmly. "But that shouldn't come as much of a surprise,"

His boss, the tall blonde that dimly reminded Gale of Cato, the District Two tribute shrugged. "It doesn't. It's still disappointing that I hired the worst drunk in town,"

"Then fire me," He said curtly, daring him too. A moment later he regretted opening his mouth. Hiddson might have let it go with anyone else, but he didn't like Gale in the slightest, and he knew Gale didn't like him. It would be just like him to do it. But he shouldn't have prodded him, everyone knew Gale Hawthorne was quick to anger.

"If I could, I would have done it years ago, but I'm not cruel. Everyone knows this is the best job you can afford,"

Again, he was really tempted to tell the ass to shut up and clock him in, but apparently, bosses don't appreciate that. "I wouldn't put it like that," Gale said, pushing his way out the door, seeing no real point to this conversation. He wouldn't be fired Hiddson would tease him some more, but Gale didn't have time for that.

He weaved his way through the office, scanning the poor souls who had the bad luck to be dressed in outfits identical to his, until he found way to the small room he could his work place. Gale sighed and pulled out the paperwork that he had to fill out. _Paperwork._ Gale was a hunter, he was a solider, he was a snare expert and a bomb maker. He didn't do paperwork. But there he was working 1:00 – 8:00.

It had been different when he first moved to Two. People didn't exactly welcome him, but he couldn't blame them, not after the war. He was sure he would have reacted the same way. But at the very least, they respected him. But now...It was just very hard to respect a drunk.

He moved to the District, with a promise of a job training teenagers to fire guns. A good enough job. But he had underestimated how painful it would be, the feel the familiar blast of a gun being fired. In short he had a mental breakdown.

Which wasn't good.

He was forced to move on after it was made clear that he couldn't be around guns. So he manufactured bombs, not even by himself, but as an assistant. But he couldn't do that either, because the flash of light and the mess afterwords brought the name _Primrose_ to his lips. They tired snares. He was excellent at designing them, there was a woods near by full of rabbits and turkeys, so the mayor figured, why not. But that ended disastrously. Hell, they even considered sending him back to twelve, which was definitely a blow on his self-esteem. But he had refused, and had to settle for the only job, that wouldn't trigger war flashbacks. He had to fill out freaking paperwork.

_Fuck._

Gale was halfway through the thick stack of files and forms on his desk when he the panic overtook him. Just pure, raw fear. His heart beating irregularly, the pressure on his chest; like he was drowning and no one was going to save him.

He hated it.

The doctors tried to convince him to take medication. But he refused. He didn't want chemicals pumping through his veins, luring him into a false sense of security. When he rejected them, they begged him to at least consider therapy. But that was out of the question.

He was going to pour his heart out to someone just because they had a diploma on a wall.

Still, the anxiety was getting to him. Panic attacks seemed to happen only days apart. All it took was a single image. Like the fair headed intern with blue eyes knocking on the door.

* * *

_Gale held Posy on his lap, while she fiddled with the button on his leather jacket._

_"Gale, can I go sit with Primie?" She said, with the accent only small children had, begging him with her bright eyes huge. He didn't know if it was good idea; the last interviews were about to begin. Her sister was going into the games tomorrow, and little Prim sure didn't need Posy asking her questions about the game. Sure the Everdeens had invited them over, but that could be pushing it._

_But those damn gray eyes._

_"I don't know, why don't you go ask her?" He said, while she scrambled of his lap._

_Primrose's eyes tore off from the blank wall, where the hologram would begin to play the show any minute."Of course, Posy, come here," She said, with a kind smile as the youngest girl threw herself into her arms. Prim fumbled around a bit, trying not to disturb her mother on her right side, Rory on her left, or Vick who sat on the floor in front of their feet._

_The room was quiet, except for Rory and Prim chatting quietly about their classes._

_But then the hologram kicked on and the seal appeared, bright and glowing in the semi dark room. The announcer, this blue haired, plastic faced, Capitol freak appeared to host the show._

_The room was awkward and quiet until the blonde District 1 girl strutted on stage and Rory catcalled. Gale glared at him and mumbled "Capitol's lap dog," under his breath._

_He manged to keep his nerves under control, until District Two's tributes came on. The girl was small, but still bigger then Katniss. And she had this cruel glint in her eye when she eyed the audience, like if she was told to she'd slit every single person's throat. But the boy... He was huge, taller than even Gale himself and muscular too. He was someone Katniss should be afraid of._

_If Gale could bet he'd but his money on District Two._

_Immediately after thinking that, Gale felt sick, disgusted that he would ever even think something like that. If he did that again, he'd be no better than the Capitol._

_But Posy squirmed in Prim's lap, commenting on how pretty the dresses were, while Prim agreed with her softly. The tension was thick as everyone alternated from watching the T.V and distracting everyone else from watching it too._

_Then someone knocked on the door. Quiet, polite even, but repeatedly and Gale excused himself to go open the door, expecting Greasy Sae, or maybe a sick person for Ms. Everdeen to treat._

_But it wasn't._

_It was Madge, dressed in her school uniform, her hair pulled away from her face, her blue eyes startled._

_"Gale? What are you doing here?"_

_"I could ask you the same," He growled, more harshly then he intended. "I was invited,"_

_Madge didn't look faced and she shrugged in a way that irritated Gale. "My Father was at work, my mother was sleeping, but I didn't want to watch it alone, in the dark house," She said simply._

_Gale didn't expect to that. Thought she was going offer them money, treat them like a charity case. He tightened his jaw, but moved out of the doorway, letting her step into the small house._

_Posy's eyes lit up when she the her. She ran of Prim's lap and Madge kneed down allowing the small child to play with her pony tail. "Look! Primie, she's got hair just like yours!"_

_Primrose smiled at the older girl and waved. "Madge Undersee, right? Katniss talks about you sometimes," She said, back to her usual cheerful way, now that she was distracted from the screen._

_Vick and Rory glued their eyes to the older girl, which made Gale roll his eyes. She wasn't that pretty anyways. His own mother was scanning the girl, with an emotionless expression on her face._

_Madge stood again, wiped the coal dust from her knees and turned to Ms. Everdeen._

_"Is it alright if I stay here? Just to watch the interviews?" She asked politely, leaving out the reason she wanted to stay._

_The blonde woman stared at the Madge, smiling sadly. "Of course dear," After a moment she added, "You look a lot like your mother. And your aunt,"_

_Madge pursed her lips, but nodded. "Everyone always says that,"_

_"I'm Posy! Can I sit on your lap? Rory won't let me sit on his because he's mean,"_

_Everybody laughed as Madge nodded and Prim invited her to sit next to her. Rory happily gave up his seat. They all focused on the interviews, where the blue haired host was chatting with the District 11 male._

* * *

Gale pushed the annoying intern aside as she tried to calm him down with her 'concern'

"I'm fine," He said harshly, in the same tone that he had used five years ago. "What do you want anyways?

Wordlessly, probably afraid of setting him off again she gave him a thick folder full a blank forms.

He raised his eyebrows. "I have to fill these out?"

She nodded.

"_Today_?"

Another nod.

"Then do me a favor and let me get on with it,"

The short, but muscular blonde left the room and Gale resisted the urge to slam the door after her. He settled back in his desk, took out a new pen and sighed.

_God, he needed a drink._

* * *

Four hours later, only three-fourths through the stack of paperwork he was supposed to do, Gale's eyes flickered to the digital clock above his door, the red numbers proclaiming that it was 7:55 PM. It was only five minutes until his shift ended. Surely he could last five minutes.

Then his boss walked through the door.

Gale inwardly groaned and shuffled the half filled forms on his desk, trying to make it look like he was working, not staring longingly at the clock, not begging time to go a little faster.

"Hawthorne,"

"Hiddison,"

The two men stared at each other, while Gale concluded that his employer looked too much like the District Two male from the 74th games to not be related to him.

7:56 PM.

"Are you finished with that packet yet?" Hiddison asked, a cruel smirk on his lips, waiting for the answer he already knew. But Gale wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He stayed silent.

"Are you, Hawthorne?" The older man asked, sitting on the other side of Gale's desk, as if they were good friends having a drink at the bar. He even had his elbows casually on the table. Gale grit his teeth, a bad habit he had developed over the years.

"No," He said curtly, and bit his tongue to keep him from saying anything worse, anything that would get him fired.

"That's such a shame,"

"Is it?"

"Oh yes, _Hawthorne_," Hiddison said, emphasizing the last word, like it was an insult. Honestly Gale didn't know why Hiddison had it in for him. Was it because he showed up drunk every morning? No, probably not, he always did his best work, no matter how much he hated this job. Even if he didn't, even Hiddison himself stumbled into the office, clutching his forehead, obviously trying to deal with a hangover. "I was going to promote you, if you finished the work,"

Gale snorted. _Yeah, that's why you dropped of a stack of a hundred different forms an hour before closing time._

7:57 PM

"A shame then," Gale replied, ever careful to soften the venom in his voice. Hiddison tsked and nodded.

"But then your starving family would be out on the streets,"

An awkward silence hung in the air, while Gale decided that he'd probably be arrested, therefore not paid if he tried to throttle his boss. The smart thing to do would be to keep his mouth shut, the smart thing to do was just let Hiddison be a jerk and dash out the door when the clock struck eight.

But of course Gale didn't go with the smart choice.

"What...did you say about my family," He said ignoring the fact that his employers smirk widened, hoping to finally have an excuse to fire the man in front of him.

"Do you want me to repeat myself?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

_Open your mouth one more time I'll rip put your throat._

"No," Gale added 'sir' as an afterthought. He felt like throwing up his hands. Either he got fired, or Hiddison got to insult him freely. Either way he lost. Gale's eyes flickered to the clock, whose red numbers now displayed 7:58. How could one minute feel like it passed in a second, but the next stretch itself over an hour.

Hiddison's dark brown eyes gleamed, and Gale honestly wondered if anyone had ever attempted to kill this guy. He wouldn't be surprised if someone did. He wouldn't have blamed them either.

He concentrated on the digital clock behind the jerk, like if he stared at the clock long and hard enough he could move forward in time. How long could he spend in the same room as the muscled blonde, who needed a shave and reeked of cheap perfume. Gale might be a drunk but Hiddison was easily the runner-up for the town disappointment award.

"I know you grew up in a starving family from the poor District Twelve, shame it was destroyed, and I heard you grew up in what even your fellow neighbors call Seam scrum, and I know your father died, and you can't hold any job we have available, so your pretty much _useless _to the town but don't think I took you on as a charity case. Only _some_ people think that,"

Gale stood up from his seat, perhaps to punch him in the face, perhaps to just tackled the guy but then his eyes flickered to the clock and he grinned victoriously.

8:00 PM.

He walked out, and slammed the door behind him, already ripping the buttons out of his shirt.

Gale ran off the door, into the gray city. See, that was the thing about District Two. Twelve was pale and washed out, dull yes, but different colors, covered it in coal dust. But Two is just gray on gray, different shades of colorlessness. The dark concrete street, the pale stone building, even the sky, gray with the smoke and smog from the factories that make the weapons.

Gray. Gray. Gray.

He never liked that color. It just reminded him of the complicated life he lived. He wished, a bliss wish, that the world was black and white. He wished that the difference between truth and lies was more clear. He wished that the line between life and death hadn't blurred. But it did.

Then it faded.

He entered the empty apartment, with freaking gray walls. He threw of his shirt, and stepped in the shower, the hot water beating down on him like a boiling shower that raised steam, making his oxygen thick and humid. He let the water burn his skin, letting the beads of sweat roll down his back. He washed his hair with the cheapest shampoo he could find at the local store, the brittle discounted soap making suds against his olive toned skin. Gale took a deep breath as the blistering water washed away the suds, trying to erase the irritating day, the nightmare filled nights, the unknown future and the haunting past. But they were always there, his troubles, his fears, in the corner of his mind.

* * *

_Gale watched Katniss solemnly talk about the love she had for his sister, and resisted the urge to look at Prim, knowing full well his brothers and sister were already. Instead he looked to his left, which held Madge, sitting politely and daintily, with Posy on her thought she looked like a doll, prim and proper, not a hair out-of-place, down to the emotionless expression her face._

_It bothered him._

_His friend, the girl right next to her's sister could die the next day, but Miss Privileged Madge couldn't be bothered to care._

_It wasn't that he especially hated the girl. He didn't hate her at all. It was the idea that she represented, back to an idea he had found in history text books form centeires before. All you need to get anywhere in life is blonde hair, blue eyes, and money. And Madge had all of those._

_It took her a while for her to realized she was being stared at, and Gale could see her back stiffen even more as she turned to look at him. "What is it?" She asked, her voice full of – full of nothing. There seemed to be no emotion in her, she was robotic as the peacekeepers._

_He stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes landed on Posy who sat innocently on her lap, a sweet grin on her face. "Nothing,"_

_Madge pursed her lips again and drew Posy closer, whispering something in the little girls ear. The small brunette giggled and nodded, hurrying off to sit by Primrose. Madge stared at him boldly. "What is your problem with me,"_

_"My problem? I have a lot of problems, and you aren't important enough to be one of them," He said venomously, only years later realizing he had taken out his frustrations on her._

_"Yeah, no problem with me? Is that why you look at me like I slapped your family member every time you see me?"_

_"You didn't slap them, you just stole the food of their plates,"_

_"You very well know I did nothing of the sort! I had nothing to do with terssa, or the food distributions, or the reaping!" She said, getting to her feet. Some color started to return to her face, but it was dar red that spread along her cheeks._

_"Then why is Katniss up there, instead of you or another blonde merchant!" He said, standing over her, towering over her small build._

_"Take a look at her fellow tribute Hawthrone!" She said, the anger seeping through her calm exterior, the silence following her around the room. "Thank you for letting me visit Ms. Everdeen. Good to see you Primrose. Goodbye Posy," She said, stiffly before walking out of the house, the door closing behind her. Gale sat back down, rolling his eyes at the ceiling until he realized everyone was staring at him._

_"I- I'll apologize tomorrow, okay," He said, mostly to get his mother, who he adored, off his back._

* * *

Gale stared at the mirror in front of him, already feeling the weightless emotion of a drunken state. He hadn't figured out where he had gotten the bottle.

He didn't really care.

You see in a moment when things become truly confusing, what seemed to matter didn't. He didn't care much that he had broken a mirror two days in a row. He didn't mind that he had dropped his bottle, letting the shards of glass add to the brokenness of his small bathroom. In the mirror, the mirror that seemed to reflect him a thousand times over, stood a girl, a pretty blonde in a drab grey uniform. If he was drunker, maybe he wouldn't even find her out-of-place. She looked as gray as the rest of district two, from her close to the moonlight that turned her blonde waves silver. But he wasn't that drunk.

His voice was low and steady, the end turning up in a question.

"Madge?"

* * *

**Dedicated to Manu. A little re birthday present for you. I got plenty of plot twist in minds, so don't think I'll stick to the plan. Thanks for reading, I'll probably update in a week or two.**

**Also, if you're in the HP fandom too, I recomend reading Islolation by Bex-Chan**

**For the PJO fandom I recommend One Sided by Chocolateismydoom**

**Quote of the day: "How strange and lonely it is to be anything at all," By the amazing John Green. **

**Preview for next chapter?**

"I didn't know I was dead. I seem to be very much alive," She said, twirling her gray skirt around her knees, smiling up at him innocently.

_She's dead. She's dead. She's dead._ He reminded himself. _But if she's dead, then why am I kissing her?_


	2. Instinct

_**SNEAK PEEK BECAUSE I FEEL AS THOUGH I SHOULD UPDATE EVEN THOUGH THIS IS HALF THE CHAPTER AND THE REST SHOULD BE UP BY NEXT EEK I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT THAT IS WHY MY APOLOGY IS IN CAPS**_

* * *

**Well, I suppose, I forgot to put in a disclaimer. But, I don't know why you would think that I had written the The Hunger Games. I mean...come on, I'm obviously not a famous author, and then there's the fact that if I was a famous author, I wouldn't be writing on , I would be publishing the fourth Hunger Games book, because the story ISN'T OVER FOR ME AND IF I WAS SUZANNE COLLIN I WOULDN'T HAVE KILLED FINNICK. But really, as much as I wish as I was such a writer as S.C is, I am sadly not, so this is our story, her characters and my plot.**

* * *

It is so much easier to dwell on your thoughts then your actions. Because your actions were a result of your thoughts, so if you figure out the cause, you can prevent the effect. Many people believe that. Many people live by it. But the problem is, many people are wrong. It doesn't work like that. Your acts didn't come because you thought you wanted it. You took something because you wanted it, because you didn't want anyone else to have it. Your ideas and reasoning came later, to soften the wall of guilt and regret that would wash over you later, when the reality finally sank in.

Like the child who stole a toy from her best friend, not because she wanted to hurt the girl. She didn't harbor a deep resentment, she didn't want to hurt the other girl, like she would grow to believe.

She just wanted a toy a to play with.

Or the little boy who stole his older brothers money. He wasn't thinking he was going to spend it in the future. He wasn't thinking of all the sweets he would buy in the future, although that's what he told himself the next day, to slow his pounding heart as he paid for his treat in the candy store.

He just didn't want his brother to have it.

Or even the hollow man with a pounding head and heart full of emotions. He would ask himself how he felt about this certain event. How did he react to it. What had led up to it, but in the back of his mind, hid the question he didn't dare to ask.

_What had he just done?_

* * *

Gale eye's made a home on her medium frame that stood before him.

"Madge?" He repeated, his words cutting across the arc of silence between them. And then she smiled at him, she smiled. But it wasn't the smile he remembered of those four years ago. No, that one wasn't sweet at all, it was quick, like she hadn't meant to let it slip. If it was a truly happy thing, then her eyes would jump, pushed up by her cheeks. But this smile was sickly, like too much syrup at one sitting, the kind that stopped flowing down your throat after too long. It didn't reach her eyes, and it seemed to bear nothing but pity for him.

The corner of her lips twisted up, and Gale's stomach recoiled in...in what? Fright? Disgust? Longing? Guilt? But he swallowed, even though it was difficult as the liquor had dried his that into a ball of cotton. "Is it you?"

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion as she tilted her head and took a step closer to him, so that they were standing only a few feet apart. "Of course it's me," She said, reassuring her eyes wide in concern. "Who else would it be?" Madge...Madge took another step, closer to him, close enough that she could reach out and press her hand to his cheek. And she did.

Her hand felt warm, it was warm, like it had felt so long ago, not cold like Gale had imagined it.

"Oh, Hawthorne, are you drunk?" She said, taking in his blood-shot eyes, and his foul breath. "You reek of liquor, reminding me of Haymitch,"

And she looked so beautiful and plain, with her hair done in a blonde braid that trailed down her back, her skin ashen pale like she too, covered in coal dust. Her uniform had a long skirt that ended at her knees, a dark blue, with a white blouse that fit her ill, tight around her ribs, but loose at her shoulders. Her blonde bangs waves off from her forehead, just hiding her eyes, which weren't the same shade of blue that Mellarks had.

"But you're dead,"

And wasn't she? Wasn't she killed in the burning? Wasn't she? Didn't he mourn over her ashes?

"I didn't know I was dead. I seem very much alive," She said, twirling her gray skirt around her knees, smiling up at him innocently.

___She's dead. She's dead. She's dead._ He reminded himself. ___But if she's dead, then why am I kissing her?_

Because he was, he was kissing her and she tasted like strawberries, and he kissed her because he wanted to.

And then he pushed her away, he was always pushing her away after getting a taste of her.

* * *

_Gale knocked on the door, the dark wood, making a hollow noise as his knuckles hit the door. He didn't know if he was hoping Madge would open the door, or her father. On one hand, Madge was mad at him, making their meeting awkward as hell. On the other hand, it would be hard to confront the mayor of the town, to apologize for yelling at his daughter. He heard the door unlock, a little click, and he saw the face of a woman, one who wasn't Madge, or didn't resemble her in the slightest. The door was open only a few inches, and Gale could only see the top part of her face, he could only see her dark eyes, under her gray eyebrows, against her olive skin._

_ "Who are you?" She asked, in an unexpected voice. He could see the wrinkles on her forehead, and assumed her voice would be rougher,raspier. Instead it was soft and stern, quiet but strict. It reminded him of his own mother. _

_ "I'm..." Gale's voice trailed off, unsure of what to introduce himself as. It was doubtful Madge would talk about him much, the old women wouldn't recognize his name. But her certainly wasn't a friend of Madge, and he wasn't even in her grade, therefore wasn't a classmate. Nor did he have strawberries on him, and if he did, he would talk to the mayor, not his daughter. Of course he could lie, but what was the point of that? "I'm here to talk to Madge," He finished._

_ The old woman's eyebrows shot up, and Gale guessed the girl didn't get visitors very often. "Do you want to come in? or-"_

_ "No, no, I mean, wouldn't it be easier if she just came outside? It would only take a moment," _

_ The woman, the Undersee servant, he assumed nodded at him, giving him a small smile as she closed the door, leaving Gale to wonder at his own thoughts of why he couldn't just tell his mom he apologized. Because she'd know, he decided. His mom always knew when he was lying._

_ It took a minute, longer then a minute, and he counted his heartbeat, getting up to 65 before the door opened again, wide enough to reveal Madge still in her school uniform. At first Gale was surprised, it was already an hour after dismissal, why hadn't she changed? Most of the children in the Seams tend to their dusty parents, changing into something they don't mind blackening, Hunters, wore their jackets and leather shoes, even most of the merchant children changed into the uniform of their family business. But then he realized Madge didn't need to work for her father, or care for him, or god forbid hunt. So why waste clothing, even the richest of the poor aren't wealthy enough to waste cloth. _

_ But she looked different, even if it wasn't her clothing. Her hair was messier, falling out of its braid with blonde waves framing her face, her blue eyes were duller then usual, and a tab bit unfocused, like she was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. Her posture was tense, but weary, and nothing like the girl who had yelled at him the night before._

_ "What do you want?"_

_ Gales head snapped up, and he nodded at her with approval. He never did take her as the girl who made small talk in the corner of the street. Straight to the point. _

_ "I-uh- wanted to apologize,for yelling at you, when we watched the interviews," He said, his voice even, not at all like when he would apologize to Katniss. When he screwed up, he'd just make a joke about, and she'd smile and all would be forgiven. _

_ "Alright," She said, and began to close the door. Gale frowned and pushed against the door to keep it from closing, from hiding her from his view. _

_ "Wait, a second,"_

_ "What?" She asked, irritation flashing in her eyes._

_ "Am I forgiven?" He said, half mockingly, half bored enough to be curious about her feelings._

_ "No," She said as she began to push the door shut. Gale repeated his actions, and she just rolled her eyes in annoyance. "What?" She asked, clearly more disturbed._

_ "Why not, why don't you forgive me?"_

_ "Because you aren't sorry," She said simply, stating a fact._

_ "Well, I'm not sorry, because I have no reason to be, my reaction was fair considering my... best friend's shipped off to fight to her death," _

_ Madge just shook her head, and her voice was less calm, like it had been before. "You know what, she was my friend too. Maybe we weren't as close, but that doesn't mean I don't care for her,"_

_ "But you don't care for her like I do," He said, matter of factly. _

_ Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened just slightly. "But, Peeta does,"_

_ Gale could feel his temper boil, as his face slowly turned red, redder and redder and redder and-_

_ "Shut up! You don't know anything about Katniss and Mellark, or Katniss and I, or anyone for that matter." He could feel her her eyes follow him down the path the led to road. He could just barley hear her whisper "And that's why I don't forgive you Hawthorne," before she shut the door behind her._

Gale stared at the girl in front of him, the girl whose lips left a taste of sour strawberries on his tongue. "But Madge, you're dead,"

And she stared back.

"I went to your funeral,"

And she stared.

"I-I put a marigold on your grave every year,"

And she stared.

"I identied your body...your ashes,"

She stared.

"I didn't save you Madge, I meant to, but I let you die,"

And as she turned away from him, he buckled down to the floor, on his knees like he was praying to her. His chest shivered as he took unstable breaths and he brung his hands to his forehead, trying to make sense of this world of madness inside him. Gale felt a warm hand on his back, on his spine and he looked up to see Madge, with her sickly sweet smile wiped off her face.

"I let you die. Did I kill you? Did I kill you. Madge," He whispered, cutting the silence with his words. "Tell me, tell me I didn't kill you, tell me I'm not your murderer,"

And she stared at him again, as she wordlessly brought her thin nimble fingers to his chin where she left them,The little blonde leaned over, and kissed him again, and this time, Gale kiss back, sure he was kissing a ghost, flicker of Madge, an she before she faded away from him.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, against her lips, as he realized he too had become merely a ghost of who he had been years ago. So long ago. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

She didn't talk to him. She just stared and kissed him, stared and kiss, like she had lost the will to talk.

And when he had began to feel a stirring in his chest, his heart beat quicken, or perhaps because of it, he pulled her off a second time, and he fell back, on his hands, his stomach open to her.

"You're dead. You're a ghost, I was kissing a ghost," He said, between sharp intakes of breath. "You aren't real, you aren't real,"

He repeated his words, as if to double check that he was sure of what he was saying. In his own defense his head swirled from the alcohol, the panic, and her presence.

Gale mustered up enough breath to speak louder. "Go. Go. Leave me alone, go," He said and her imagine stared at him, also knocked back to the floor, and stared and stared and stare-

"Go! Stop staring and go!"

And she went.


End file.
